The Ballad Of Lenny Bartle
by traveller19
Summary: The Bill/BBC Robin Hood/Doctor Who..the tenth Doctor...crossover.  With the Doctor's help, Lenny Bartle and Allan A'Dale learn some lessons on Christmas Day.
1. Author's Note

Most of you are probably wondering who Lenny Bartle is. Obviously some explanation is required here. :D Lenny Bartle is a guest character portrayed by Joe Armstrong on an episode of a BBC police show called _The Bill_ in 2003. Added together, his total time onscreen (clips below) is only a few minutes, but within that few minutes, he makes you laugh, breaks your heart, and reduces you to a puddle of goo with his adorable accent. What follows is a summary of Lenny's appearance on _The Bill_.

Lenny is brought barefoot into the police station on Christmas Eve fighting with a Middle Eastern man, accusing him of stealing his boots. A man who runs a homeless shelter said that Lenny came in drunk the night before. Two cops, Will and Honey, give Lenny some slippers to put on his frostbitten toes until he remembers that he left his boots under a garbage can, where he'd tried to sleep before going to the homeless shelter and taken them off to dry after being soiled as a result of his drunken antics. Later on, Lenny is back in the station, confronting the owner of the homeless shelter for not allowing him to stay at his facility on Christmas Eve. The owner imparts to Will and Honey that Lenny is barred from every homeless shelter in London because he has a reputation for waking up other guests with his nightmares. After Lenny refuses to leave, Will arrests him for breach of the peace for the simple reason that it will give the homeless man a place to sleep on Christmas Eve.

While Lenny sleeps in prison, Will and Honey do some digging on him. They discover that he is actually Former Private Bartle, an Army soldier who was on guard duty in Iraq when five other soldiers were killed in an explosion resulting from a brainwashed fifteen-year-old kid targeting the camp's biggest tent. The Army tell Will that Lenny failed to report that his night vision was faulty and that the kid overpowered him. Honey discovers that Lenny has been reported as missing, and that he has a wife and three-year-old desperate to find him.

On Christmas morning, Will confronts Lenny with what he's found. To his surprise, Lenny does not want to go back to his wife and child, even though it would mean no longer being homeless-his wife, Tammy, has been given a flat outside York. When pressed, Lenny reveals that upon his discharge from the Army and return from Iraq, he could not sleep for days. He drank to knock himself out and woke up in a murderous state of mind. He left Tammy and their child because of the pain he was causing them, and does not want to return for fear of hurting them again. When Will insinuates that what happened in Iraq wasn't Lenny's fault, Lenny tells him the truth-that he had fallen asleep at his guard post and allowed the bomber to walk in unmolested.

When Lenny is released from jail the next morning, Will gives him a flyer from an organization that provides accommodations for ex-servicemen. Lenny thanks Will and wishes him a Merry Christmas.

My story picks up from this point, and things take an interesting turn for Lenny Bartle. ;)

Disclaimer: I'm not a regular _Doctor Who_ viewer, so my deepest apologies if I've written David Tennant's Doctor wrong. I have seen several episodes, but not in any particular order or enough to get a true feel for the character. HOWEVER, my sister _is_ a regular DW fan and has helped me fix my Doctor-related issues. So hopefully he isn't just too OOC now. :)

Huge enormous major thank you to my super-amazing beta, **sylvi10**! *hugs!*

So, without further ado, I present "The Ballad of Lenny Bartle". Reviews much appreciated!


	2. Chapter 1

Lenny Bartle sidled away from the police station, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his raggedy old coat, fingering the paper Will had given him and wondering what it could mean-"Places: Single Person Accommodations for Ex Services". _Single Person Accommodations_. He would have a bed, his _own_ bed, his own whole apartment for that matter. And he wouldn't have to worry about waking anyone else up with his nightmares, or worse...

He had been there again last night. His physical body had been in a jail cell in the East End, of course, but the rest of him, the part that mattered, had been back in Iraq, the same place it was every night. Everything was the same, as it always was-the sound and force of the explosion jarring him awake, the smell of burnt flesh, and the sickening horror as he realized it was _his_ fault Flint and the others were dead.

_Damn._ It was bad enough dreaming about it every night-why did that memory have to follow him around during the day? _Merry bloody Christmas, indeed. Nothin' merry 'bout it._

From an open window of a house, he heard the high-pitched, joyous laughter of a small child, and his heart twisted. It would be Katie's second Christmas without him there-he'd been overseas last year. And she had been too young to remember her first two. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, clenching and unclenching his fists, steeling himself. But all he could do was wonder what Tammy had told their little girl this morning when she asked why her daddy wasn't home again for Christmas.

His hopeful mood brought on by the possibility of having a place to live shattered and lost in self-pity, Lenny wandered further and further through the East End until he looked up and realized with a start that he didn't know where he was. It shook him a bit-he took pride in knowing the city like the back of his own hand. It was one of the very few things a homeless person could boast about that few other people could. But he was not familiar with the buildings on either side of him, and when he turned his gaze to the object in front of him, he was certain that he was utterly and truly lost, for he had never seen the likes of it before.

It was a box. A big, blue box. Around the top edge where the words "Police Public Call Box". But it didn't look like any sort of call box Lenny had ever seen before. It looked old-fashioned, and for a minute Lenny wondered what Will had slipped in the porridge the coppers had so kindly provided for him this morning to make him see this apparition. But there was a soft, welcoming light coming from the windows, and suddenly Lenny realized that he was freezing. And his toes _hurt_. Sure, it was his own fault for pissing all over his boots two nights prior and then walking around barefoot in December, but it didn't change the facts. He wanted warmth and to get off his feet. Who knew, maybe whoever'd left the light on had also left a bag of crisps, or even better, a little something liquid to warm him up?

With that thought in mind, he approached the door and tried the knob. It wouldn't turn. It figured. But Lenny was not so easily deterred. Cautiously peering in the window, he noted that no one was inside. Picking up a discarded piece of lumber from the alleyway, he made to break the window when suddenly a voice called out from behind him.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

Caught red-handed and surrounded on all sides by buildings with no means of escape, Lenny did what had been trained into him by months in the Army-he attacked. Without wasting so much as a second to get a good look at the man who had cornered him, he raised the board over his head, whirled one hundred and eighty degrees, and rushed at the speaker with the full intent of inflicting whatever degree of harm was needed to ensure that this man gave him no further trouble. What he hadn't counted on, however, was the speaker turning around and running. Thrown off-balance by the weight of the lumber and unable to stop spinning without coming into contact with something, Lenny stumbled sideways and struck his head on the wall of one of the buildings beside him. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was a flash of red and brown in the direction the other man had run. _Coward_.

The first thing he saw when he came to were spectacles. Spectacles and a brown coat. It was the man who had run away from him earlier! His head spinning and pounding, Lenny moaned and blinked painfully.

"Oo're you?"

The other man grinned widely. "Nice of you to join us! I'm the Doctor!"

"Doctor... 'Oo?" asked Lenny blearily. If that man spoke _that_ loudly again, Lenny was going to punch him.

"Just 'The Doctor'. It's Lenny, isn't it?"

"Huh? 'Ow did you know?" Stunned, Lenny jumped to his feet, shutting his eyes as his head spun. He didn't know whether to be angry, which was his default emotion, or scared, which common sense told him to be. Mainly he just felt dizzy. But the other man had made no move to fight him-after all, he'd run away the first time-and as Lenny stared at him, waiting for an answer, his vision cleared and he finally began to take notice of the Doctor's physical appearance. He was tall, to begin with-Lenny's nose only came up to his neck. He was oddly dressed, not that Lenny was one to judge-he wore a dark blue suit jacket and trousers, a tan coat that dropped to his shins, and red Converse sneakers (Lenny remembered the flash of red he'd seen just before he'd hit the ground). His dark hair was mussed in the front, and his brown eyes held an almost insane look which unnerved Lenny just the slightest bit. The man straightened up and said,

"I've been watching you since you were brought to the police station last night. I know about everything-Iraq, the accident, Tammy, all of it."

His anger rekindled at the admission, Lenny drew back his arm to strike, but the Doctor put up his hands in a display of goodwill.

"I can help you."

Snorting, Lenny shook his head. "There's nothin' you can do ta 'elp me. There's nothin' anyone can do!"

"Oh come on, it's Christmas, it's the time for helping others." The Doctor tilted his head and flashed him a winning grin. Lenny, unconvinced, did not lower his stance. The other man then lowered his voice, his face turning solemn. "Lenny, you have hurt enough people, haven't you? Do you really want to hurt me as well?"

That did it. Lenny swallowed and dropped his arm to his side, lowering his eyes to the ground.

"I didn't think so. Now come along, I have something that I want to show you!" He strode past Lenny toward the blue box like nothing had ever happened. Lenny didn't particularly want to go with him, but this man didn't strike him as someone who could be effectively argued with. So he tried a question instead.

"I don't know anythin' about you-you won't even tell me your name! Why should I do anythin' you tell me?"

The other man flashed a devious little smile. "Trust me, I'm the Doctor."

Lenny rolled eyes skyward. The Doctor had the door to the blue box open and was standing halfway inside it, motioning for Lenny to follow him. Lenny hesitated a moment, suspicion still hindering him, but just then a chilly wind blew and Lenny remembered how cold he was and how much his toes hurt. Besides, what did he have to lose? He climbed into the box and left the cold London air behind him.

He missed the sound of the door slamming shut at his back as he gazed around in wonder at his quite unfamiliar surroundings.

"'S bigger on the inside."

"Quite right! Here we go, allons-_y_!"

Lenny was so busy gazing around him in nearly speechless wonder at all the buttons and switches and lights and contraptions on whatever this _thing_ was that he was standing inside that he nearly missed the significance of the Doctor's statement.

"Wait a second, _go_? Sorry, but I'm not goin' anywhere with you!"

The Doctor looked frustrated now. "You said that you would let me help you."

"Yeah, _'elp_ me, not abduct me! Where were ya thinkin' of goin', anyway?"

"Somewhere amazing."

"I'll bet it's borin'." Lenny taunted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh come on, it'll be fun!" The Doctor never seemed to lose that boundless enthusiasm. "There's so much out there, if you would only have the courage to look for it!"

"Courage? Don't you talk ta me about courage! You 'aven't been in battle, you 'aven't seen the things I 'ave..."

"Haven't I?" It was not a smart response-the Doctor's tone was serious. Lenny stood, jaw clenched, breathing heavily in and out through his nose. He couldn't refuse now-_no one_ called the courage of a soldier into question and got away with it. When he didn't respond verbally, the Doctor cracked another smile like nothing had ever happened and said, "I'll take that as a yes." Turning to the large circular array of buttons and dials in the center of the box, he flipped some switches and suddenly there was a loud noise and the column in the middle of the room lit up. His eyes enormous, Lenny clutched at the nearest solid thing-the wall-and hung on for dear life as the police box started to _move_.

"WHAT THE 'ELL?" He could think of a few times when he had been this scared, all of them in Iraq, but not very many. A very small amount, actually. Almost none.

The Doctor had an almost insane grin on his face. Over the roar of the machine, he yelled "Did I mention we're going back in time?"

"WHAT?" Lenny believed it. He was now prepared to believe anything this man told him. The Doctor nodded enthusiastically and then went back to madly pressing buttons. His knees trembling, Lenny sank to the ground as he suddenly felt the sensation that they were flying.

"WOOHOO!" yelled the Doctor, his exclamation accompanied by a spurt of maniacal laughter. Lenny recalled the time he had found a ten-pound note lying on the ground and treated himself to the all-you-can-eat buffet and wondered if his facial expression then had been the same as the Doctor's was at this moment.

"Brilliant," muttered Lenny sarcastically, his voice muffled due to the position of his head, which was now located between his knees. There was a reason he hadn't gone into the Air Force.

Soon the whirring of machinery died down, and they were able to speak in normal tones. The ride had also smoothed out, mercifully, so Lenny was able to speak without the possibility of subjecting his poor boots to another form of mess.

"What _is_ this thing?"

"This," said the Doctor, running a hand lovingly over a red lever at the center console, "is my TARDIS. T-A-R-D-I-S. 'Time And Relative Dimension In Space'. She's my space...ship."

Lenny decided not to press that particular matter. He already felt like his brain was going to explode.

"You said we were going back in time. _When_ am I going to end up?"

"That's the fun bit! Never really knowing." The Doctor winked. Sensing that it was unlikely he would be able to get any more answers out of him, Lenny quieted and leaned his head back against the wall of the TARDIS, closed his eyes, and tried his very best to imagine that he was _not_ flying. He focused on a mental picture from two years ago that day, the last Christmas he, Tammy, and Katie had had together before he left for Iraq. It hurt, but it also brought a smile to his lips.

He must have dozed off, mercifully not deeply enough to dream, because the next thing he knew was a massive jolt as the TARDIS landed.

"Sorry about that, she lands a little rough," apologized the Doctor, seeing Lenny's startled and slightly nauseated expression. He patted the center console affectionately before turning and looking at Lenny as though by still sitting against the wall a full five seconds after landing, he were preventing them from accomplishing whatever mission they had to perform. "Well come on, then! Allons-_y_!" With that, he flung open the TARDIS door and ran outside. Lenny didn't speak French, but he didn't bother asking what the phrase meant. Not wanting to be left behind, he followed the Doctor out into another alleyway and immediately stopped, staring wide-eyed. For not more than one hundred yards in front of him was the biggest, most impressive-looking structure he'd ever seen.

It was a castle. Not some frilly, princess-y castle like the pictures in the books Tammy used to read to little Katie while he secretly listened in. No, this was a fortress, built of stone and looking more imposing than an eight-foot-tall man holding an AK-47. And it was huge, at least ten stories tall. Lenny hoped it had an elevator.

The Doctor rubbed his hands together. "Nottingham, somewhere around the time the year of our Lord 1193. Christmas Day from the looks of it. I do love Christmas."

Lenny, thinking he had perhaps misunderstood him in his awe over the castle, blinked . "Wot? _1193_?"

"Yeah." The Doctor nodded rapidly. "The Middle Ages, great period. Feudalism and knights in shining armor and plagues and all that sort of fun stuff. It's great, isn't it?"

"Yeah, great," echoed Lenny unenthusiastically.

"I'll just leave you to it then!" The Doctor turned on his heel and strode off rapidly in the direction opposite the castle. Lenny just stood there for a moment, completely stunned, and then ran after him, yelling,

"Wait! Leave me to what? Ya can't just leave me 'ere! Wot am I supposed to be doin?"

The Doctor turned briefly to yell "Check out the castle! Quite a structure, a must for any tourist visit. Just watch out for the Sheriff-nasty piece of work, you don't want to run into him. I wish I could stay, but timelines and all that. Just try not to get into too much trouble. I'll be back soon!" And then he really was gone, vanished around a corner into a crowd of people dressed in some very old-fashioned attire. Lenny suddenly felt very conspicuous-his clothing, though dirty and worn, was very modern-looking. Trying his best to stay as unnoticed as possible, he pulled his hood up, thrust his hands in his pockets, and walked quickly toward the castle. Even so, he could feel eyes boring into his back, hushed whispers attempting to divine his origins and those of his very strange clothing. He wondered what kind of reactions the Doctor was getting to his red Converses.

When he reached the castle's entrance he encountered a problem in the form of two men dressed in shiny metal armor, holding long sticks with some very sharp-looking metal things on the ends. Though he knew he could have taken them with no trouble if he was in his own world, right now he had no weapon, and he was more out of his element as a soldier than he had ever been in his life. Besides, this place was so big that there were bound to be more where they came from, even if he were to punch them out. So, he ducked behind a nearby corner in the city wall before the guards could notice him to re-think his barely-existent strategy. Less than barely-existent, actually. Better make that non-existent. He didn't even know where he was going inside the castle.

Suddenly, he heard the first movement of Mozart's _Eine Kleine Nachtmusik_ (it was one of the few lectures he hadn't happened to sleep through or skip in his music appreciation class as a teenager) blaring loudly from the direction of where the TARDIS was parked. Everyone, including the guards, went running to see what this strange noise that no one had ever heard before. Lenny grinned as he hurried through the enormous doors before they could come back. _Nice one, Doc. Thanks._

He found himself in a stone hallway with a vaulted ceiling at least two stories high. There were large windows spaced intermittently with columns made of the same stone as the walls, the floor, and the ceiling. It was by far the fanciest place Lenny Bartle had been in a long, long time. He barely had time to soak it all in before he heard a phrase quite similar to one he had heard earlier that day, and spoken with the same accusatory tone.

"Oi! 'Oo're you?"


	3. Chapter 2

Lenny whirled and made to battle his accuser fist-to-fist as he had before, but he stopped suddenly upon seeing the face of the man who had spoken.

He looked _exactly like Lenny_.

Granted, he maybe had a couple of years on Lenny, and while even on the streets Lenny generally tried to keep as clean-shaven as possible (a habit trained into him by his time in the Army), this man's visage exhibited a form of well-managed scruff-a line of chestnut above his upper lip, and some fluff on his chin that tapered off as it ran up the side of his face. And Lenny really wasn't sure what he was wearing. Apparently really tight black leather pants had been more popular than he would have imagined in the late twelfth century.

Apparently the man in question noticed the resemblance as well, because he stopped short a couple of feet in front of Lenny and stared, blue eyes wide with something that might have been the beginnings of shock. Neither spoke for several seconds, but it was the man in black who finally broke the silence.

"I'm not bein' funny, but when I looked in the washbasin this mornin', I swear I saw a face that looked _a lot_ like yours. Could have just been imaginin' it." His voice dripped with frightened sarcasm. "My mum never told me I 'ad a twin."

_Washbasin?_ thought Lenny. _I'm really neck-deep in it now._ "I'm_ not_ your twin."

Man-In-Black-Leather blinked. _Are _my_ eyelashes that long?_ "Well then 'oo..." He paused, giving Lenny a once-over. "Wot're you _wearin'?_"

Lenny swallowed hard, not knowing how to respond. Somehow, it didn't seem like the wisest of plans to reveal the fact that he was from exactly eight hundred ten years in the future. But he had no idea what he was even supposed to be doing at this point-the Doctor had scurried off to God-knows-where, he was running around an enormous castle filled with guards with pointy sticks, and he really just wanted to go back to 2003, find a doorway somewhere, curl up and go to sleep. And seeing as this man hadn't tried to do him harm yet, he figured he had more to gain than lose.

"You're probably not goin' to believe this, but I'm from the future." There.

The other man looked puzzled. "The wot?"

Lenny tried again. "I live in a time that hasn't happened yet. For you, at least."

Leather-Man chuckled and shook his head. "Look mate, I get it. You've 'ad a few too many at the Trip. A little early on in the day, yeah, but it 'appens to the best of us. Come on, let's get you out o' 'ere before anyone sees you." He put a hand on Lenny's shoulder and maneuvered him forward. Lenny thought for a minute that he was going to throw him out of the castle, but instead of heading for the front door they turned down a hallway and then ducked into what appeared to be a closet with one window, its broken sash hanging down and letting in the chilly winter air. Lenny's companion pulled the door shut behind them.

"Look, I can't just send you back out into town like this. No tellin' what sorta trouble you'll stir up that Guy'll make _me_ clean up, so you just stay in 'ere until you sober up, all right mate?"

Lenny glared at him. "I 'aven't _been_ on the bottle, _mate_."

The other man sighed in frustration. "Look, I don't 'ave time to stay in 'ere with you. So you just do as you're told and I won't turn you in for trespassin' in the castle. Bargain?"

Lenny sneered. "I don't know 'oo you're supposed to be 'round 'ere, but you're not doin' the best job instillin' any sort of respect or fear in me."

That seemed to push the other man's buttons just a bit. "I'll 'ave you know that I'm Sir Guy's man and it's my duty to make sure that rabble like you don't get in the castle, so if I were you, I'd shut my mouth while I still 'ad a tongue in it!"

"Are you threatenin' me?" His anger becoming less restrainable by the minute, Lenny clenched his fists and shoved his face into the other man's until the tips of their noses were only a few inches apart. His opponent's eyes widened a little and he took the smallest of steps backward, placing his hands out in front of him, palms facing Lenny in a gesture obviously meant to imply that he meant him no harm.

"Listen mate, I'm not lookin' to 'urt anyone. If I was, you'd be in the dungeon by now, yeah?" He looked to Lenny for confirmation that he understood this to be true. Lenny regarded him skeptically, but he un-balled his fists. "Let's just forget this 'n' start over, all right? I'm Allan A'Dale." He stuck out his right hand and glanced down at it, obviously expecting Lenny to take it. Lenny just glared at him for a moment, but soon the pulse that was his anger beating in his ears began to die down, and he remembered that he had nowhere to go and no defense if he decided not to at least pretend to trust this man. He accepted Allan's hand and gave it a firm shake.

"Lenny Bartle."

A half-smile crossed Allan's face. "Good. Now tell me what you're _really_ doin' 'ere."

Lenny shook his head. "I know you don't believe me, and I don't blame you for it, but I really am from the future. There was this man called the Doctor, and 'e's got this big blue box called the TARDIS, and we flew 'ere in it from London in 2003..." He trailed off. He sounded ridiculous. Allan apparently agreed, because he was shaking his head and chuckling.

"I've told some tall stories in my time, mate, but I think you've got me beat."

Lenny gestured to indicate the entirety of his own body. "Do me clothes look like anythin' you've seen before?"

"Well, no, but there are a lot of explanations for 'em that are more believable than the one you've given me!"

Lenny shook his head, defeated. "'M sorry. There's nothin' I can say that'll make you see." Out of habit, he stuck his hands in his pockets-he supposed it had started as just a reaction to being unable to escape the cold, but had progressed to being his way of physically dealing with any situation in which he felt hopeless. As he did, his fingers brushed the paper Will had given him again, and suddenly he had an idea. He pulled it out and looked at it, grinning widely when he saw the copyright date for the rental company, printed in small letters next to a "C" with a circle around it at the bottom right corner of the page. He held the paper out to Allan and pointed enthusiastically.

"Look! See the date? It says '2003'!"

Without even looking at the page, Allan shook his head. "I can't read it."

"Yeah, it's small, but see, it's there, in the corner."

"No, that's not what I...I can't read. Anythin'. At all. I don't know 'ow."

_Oh, for the love of Christ._ He was ready to ball up the flyer and throw it across the room when his eyes landed on a canister of quill pens on a shelf next to the wall. _Of course!_ This was the Middle Ages, they wrote everything by hand! He closed his eyes and desperately tried to recall his history lessons from several years ago-he wished he'd paid more attention and gone to class more often. But Ms. Fritz had been a persnickety old witch... Johannes Gutenberg, yeah, that was the guy! He'd invented the printing press in...1450! _Huh. Funny the things you remember._

He shoved the paper at Allan again. "But just look at it! Could you 'ave written that with a quill?"

Looking more annoyed than curious, Allan took the proffered flyer and studied it. Lenny felt his heart rise when he saw the other man's eyebrows go up.

"'Ow do you make it look like this?"

"A printer." Lenny grinned. "You type what you want the paper to say into the computer, and then click 'print' 'n' it comes out of the printer..." He stopped talking, noticing that Allan looked a little skeptical.

"Wot?"

"It's all...you won't see any of it in your lifetime, but we've got some pretty cool stuff in the twenty-first century."

Suddenly seeming quite interested, Allan raised an eyebrow. "Got anythin' else from the future with you? You know, somethin' fancy or..."

Lenny sighed. "No, sorry. It's all too expensive for me. I don't own a thing but the clothes on me back. I don't even 'ave a place to live." He sighed as the reality of his life came crashing back down on him. Even if he did manage to get back home, what did he have to look forward to? Had Lenny not been staring at the floor, he might have noticed a sympathetic expression flicker across Allan's face. Instead, he heard him say,

"Lookin' to relocate, are we?"

Lenny snorted. "Comin' 'ere wasn't exactly part of the plan. They wouldn't let me spend another night in the slammer so I thought I'd warm up in the Doctor's flyin'-box-thingy."

"You spent the night in the _what?_"

"Prison. Like your dungeons, I guess. I got myself arrested on purpose so I'd 'ave someplace warm to sleep with a blanket 'n' somethin' to eat. They gave me hot porridge 'cause it's Christmas."

"'Ang on a second!" Allan looked alarmed. "You mean where you're from, when they throw you in the dungeon they give you a blanket 'n' _food?_"

Lenny nodded. "It's not really a dungeon, though. Much better lighting."

"I'm not bein' funny, but if you ever get back where you're goin', will you take me with you?" Allan looked incredulous.

Lenny chuckled. "What, been on the wrong side o' the law yourself? Not sure if I believe that. I'll bet you've never 'ad to nick a thing in your life. Bet 'Sir Guy' takes care 'o' you right nicely-you never want for anythin'." He couldn't help but taunt this man in his nicely-oiled black leather vest with shiny silver buckles.

"Are you really willin' to wager on it?" Allan's tone was not at all amused, and Lenny realized that he had made a mistake. "Because I reckon I'd be a rich man by the time we got done."

"You mean you've been there yourself?" Lenny couldn't help but be curious.

"Up until Guy took me on a couple o' months ago, I slept under the stars nearly every night for six years. My brother 'n' I stole what we needed 'n' tried our best to stay away from the guards 'n' outlaws."

_Outlaws?_ _Does he mean like Robin Hood?_ Lenny smiled to himself. _Silly old legend. I'll bet it never even happened._ He couldn't help but be jealous of this man's good fortune, no matter what his past was, and that made him snide.

"So that's it, then? Some knight just sees a poor beggar on the streets 'n' takes 'im in, gives 'im a job? I'd say you're pretty lucky."

"There was more to it than that," Allan mumbled. It was now _his_ turn to stare at the stone floor.

Lenny's curiosity was roused. "Well, seein' as I'm not goin' anywhere," Lenny gestured to where Allan stood between him and the door, "I reckon I've got time for a story."

Allan looked almost scared for a moment, but then a cunning smile crossed his face.

"Yeah, all right. What's your story? 'Ow did _you_ end up on the streets?"

Lenny glared at him, but Allan folded his arms and, putting one foot in front of the other in a display of relaxation, leaned with his back against the closet door. _All right then, fine._

"I put meself there on purpose. I did something I'm not proud of 'n' I deserve it."

"Wot?" Allan raised an eyebrow. Obviously this wasn't the answer he'd been expecting. Oh well, Lenny had started now, might as well tell the whole thing. He'd done it once already today.

"I used to be a soldier."

"You mean like a Crusader?"

"Yeah, sort of. We're kinda havin' a Crusade over in Iraq right now."

"Where's Ee-rock?"

Why did he care? "The Middle East. Sort of by your 'Oly Land." Finally he seemed to have said _something_ that made sense to his listener, because an expression of recognition crossed Allan's face.

"Anyway, I made a mistake. It was a stupid mistake, an accident, but five men died because of me. They kicked me outta the Army 'n' sent me back to London. But when you've done somethin' like that, it 'aunts you." He stopped, swallowed, and shook his head. He didn't want to think about this. He shouldn't _have_ to think about this.

Allan's voice was surprisingly quiet when he spoke. "Sometimes...people get 'urt because of things we do, 'n' we didn't mean for 'em to get 'urt in the process. It doesn't make it your fault."

Lenny whirled on him. "I fell asleep at me guard post! I fell asleep, 'n' some bloody kid blew up our tent! It _is_ me fault!"

"So what...you just...became a street urchin? As a form of penance or something? That's pretty steep, mate."

Lenny shook his head, anger dissolved by the overwhelming memories of the reason he had doomed himself to the life of the homeless.

"I was 'urtin' me family. I was drinkin', _'ard_, tryin' to dull the pain 'n' get some sleep. But I'd 'ave 'orrible dreams about Iraq, about what 'appened. When I woke up, I'd always try to go for me gun. One night I 'ad me 'ands 'round Tammy's neck, like I was tryin' to choke 'er..." He trailed off, fighting the urge to sob, his hands shaking like they did when he'd had too much booze.

"I could have killed me wife, or me little girl. So I just took off. I know they've been lookin' for me, but I can't go back. I can't do that to 'em again."

His story finished, he stood there, clenching and unclenching his fists, willing what he'd dug up to just lie down in its hole and die again.

"You said they're lookin' for you?"

Lenny stiffened at the sound of Allan's voice, still speaking of what he wanted so desperately to forget.

"Yeah," he muttered.

"'N' your wife, she doesn't 'old what you did against you?"

Lenny swallowed hard, knowing it was true. He didn't deserve her love, and she didn't deserve to have him, a wreck of a man, posing as her husband. She should have hated him, should have scorned him for what he'd done, but she hadn't. They had both put on a show of love at the airport, of course, but when they got home he'd expected her to drop the facade, as he had. His false joy had given way to hardness and detachment, but she had never stopped trying to get through to him, to help him move past what he'd done. But how could she expect him to just let go, to carry on as if nothing had ever happened? He wished he could, for her so much more than for himself. He wished he could give her that much.

"Well, then I'd say you're pretty lucky." There was no hint of amusement or sarcasm in Allan's voice-the tone was jealous and bitter. Lenny glared at him, seething rage originally directed toward himself, now being channeled outward toward Allan, who just couldn't seem to let this go.

"_Lucky?_" His anger overcoming his sense, he fell back on his most frequently employed line. "Wot do _you_ know?"

Allan snorted humorlessly. "Nothin', apparently. But I'll tell you what. I'd give _anythin'_ to have the chance you do. You 'ave it all right there at your feet-forgiveness, family, acceptance. But you're too busy bein' a martyr to take it! If I 'ad the chance you do..." He stopped, as though suddenly realizing that he'd said too much, but it was too late.

His anger dissipating somewhat in favor of curiosity, Lenny said, his voice low and calm, "All right, your turn now. I've told you me story, now you tell me yours." Allan looked hesitant and extremely uncomfortable. "'S only fair."

Allan turned around to look at the door, then back to Lenny before taking a deep breath and sighing. He probably guessed that, even though he was armed and Lenny wasn't, this soldier from the future, who for all he knew could have methods of killing him that he couldn't even dream of, could easily best him in a fight. And Lenny had a feeling he was right. When he spoke, Allan's voice was quieter and more acetic than ever.

"My mistake wasn't accidental like yours. I had finally found a place where I belonged, people I belonged _with_, 'n' I mucked it up, just like I always do."

He looked as though he wasn't going to continue for a moment, but Lenny urged him on. "'Ow?"

Allan glowered at him, but the acid was gone from his voice. Now he just sounded regretful. "I sold their secrets to their enemy. Our enemy. I did it...I did it to stop 'im 'urtin' me." He shivered, and Lenny remembered with a sick feeling Allan's earlier talk of the dungeon and wondered just what sort of hurts had been inflicted upon this man in the gruesome torture chambers he had heard all big castles possessed.

"But then I just kept going, gettin' deeper 'n' deeper in. Guy could give me money 'n' property, somethin' they couldn't. But I see now that I was wrong to go with 'im. I lost the only real family I ever 'ad, 'n' all because I wanted to be _comfortable_." He spat the word with contempt, then emitted a humorous, ironic chuckle. "The funny thing is, I'd give everythin' I own for 'em to take me back. I'd never pursue another penny in profit in my life if it meant I could have that feeling back, that feeling of knowing I belonged somewhere." He shook his head, and suddenly it seemed as though he was studying the patterns of dirt on the floor with painstaking detail. The pause that followed was so long that Lenny was certain that Allan would not speak again. But then he did, his words barely audible.

"The worst part is that they think I 'urt 'em on purpose. I didn't. I would never 'urt 'em." He sounded almost like a small child, as though he believed that repeating the sentiment over and over again would make the friends he had betrayed believe its truth. "It's a good thing, to 'ave people 'oo care about you. I guess it's just one of those things-sometimes you don't know what you 'ave 'til it's gone ."

And suddenly, with those words, everything became clear to Lenny. The reason he'd left Tammy and Katie in the first place was because more than anything, he'd wanted their security and their happiness. But now he realized that they couldn't feel any more secure and happy than he did. Ever since he'd taken off, he'd felt like a piece of him was missing, like a worm had gouged out a hole deep inside him. He wondered if Tammy felt like that, too. And Katie...he didn't want her to have to grow up without her dad. They wouldn't be a normal family right away; they might even never be. There would be months, maybe even years, of turmoil and pain and recovery ahead, trials that he could not face without the people he loved, but suddenly he felt an indescribable sense of peace in the knowledge that that was all right, as long as they could just be together. And maybe, just maybe, if he could bring them that tiny bit of happiness that comes from being whole as a family, he could begin to find just the smallest shreds of hope for healing himself. He was willing to face what was coming, not for himself, but for them.

The relief and joy he felt as he realized he had a chance at happiness and a better life was so intense and sudden that he could have wept. In fact, he almost did, until he remembered that he was in the presence of another male, and he didn't want this man he'd just met to see his emotion. When he looked over at Allan, he found that the other man had moved away from the door, and was gesturing at it with his hand.

"Look, mate, it's obvious you're not drunk, so there's no use in keepin' you 'ere anymore. Just tell me which direction you want to go, 'n' I'll get you out of 'ere, 'opefully without a fuss. Guards are a bit slackened on Christmas, so we shouldn't run into too much trouble." He sounded depressed and lonely, and for a moment Lenny considered staying awhile longer, until he remembered that he still needed to find a way to get back to 2003 before he could even think about what he was going to do when he got home.

"Could you take me back to the TARDIS?" He had no idea where the Doctor had gone when they parted, so he knew that going after him and trying to find him would be a very unwise move. "The blue box?"

"I'll get you out of the castle, no further. If people see me 'elpin' an intruder escape, it's the end of the road for me. Nowhere to go but the gallows after this."

After opening the door of the closet slowly and looking both ways to make sure no one was approaching from either end of the hall, Allan led Lenny down the corridor and out through a side door, probably a servant's door, into an alleyway.

"I don't know where your blue box is, but the front of the castle, where I believe you came in..." He looked for confirmation from Lenny. "...is that way." He pointed. "You can use that to sort of guess. Good luck."

Lenny nodded. "Right. Thanks." His grateful smile was genuine, a rare thing for him nowadays. Allan just shrugged. Lenny started to leave, but at that moment the conscience to which he had been a slave for the past several months finally decided to cause him to act rather than brood, and he turned around.

"I...I'm goin' back to 'em. After what you said, 'bout not knowin' wot you 'ad 'til it's gone, I was just thinkin'..."

Allan looked him, apprehensive yet curious.

"Look, I don't know if Tammy will 'ave me back, but if she does...I was thinkin'...maybe your friends would 'ave you back, too. You know, if you told 'em what really 'appened. Maybe the people we love understand more than we give 'em credit for."

He did not miss the flicker of hope in Allan's eyes, but just as soon as it lit up it was snuffed out by doubt and disbelief. Allan smiled joylessly.

"I don't think so, mate. But...good luck with your wife, yeah?"

Lenny nodded, and, in a gesture mirroring Allan's of earlier, reached out his hand. A hint of humor in his grin this time, Allan accepted it and gave it a shake.

"Now get outta here." Lenny nodded and started to trot away, but he slowed as Allan called after him.

"Hey!"

Lenny turned around once more.

"Ever think about growin' some facial hair? A little scruff, maybe a bit above the lip...you know. Might make your lass's decision to take you back a bit easier..."

Not ten minutes before Lenny would have introduced the tip of Allan's nose considerably closer to the rest of his face for saying such a thing, but now he was so grateful to this man and full of hope and excitement for the future that he couldn't help but chuckle.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll think about it." And with that, he hurried off, trying his best to avoid prying eyes as he headed back to where he desperately hoped he had left the TARDIS.


	4. Chapter 3

Lenny turned the corner and started to become worried when he realized that he was not at all where he thought he should be-twelfth-century Nottingham's network of alleyways was much more confusing than he could have imagined-and when he felt a hand on his shoulder, he tensed instinctively, ready to fight.

"It's just me!" He relaxed when he heard the Doctor's voice.

"Don't _do_ that! I could've killed ya!" As annoyed as he was, Lenny could not help but admit to himself how happy and relieved he was to see him.

The Doctor ignored the comment. "Ready to go home?"

Lenny nodded, his heart jumping from his chest to his throat at the word. _Home._ He hadn't had a home in so long. "Yeah. I've...I've done what you wanted me to do. What I...needed to do."

"Good!" The Doctor smiled, turned on his heel, and headed forward confidently. Lenny had to jog to keep up with his long stride, but not for long. Not two corners later, the TARDIS loomed before them in all its antique (or futuristic, mused Lenny ironically) glory. He knew he should be overjoyed to see it, ready to go _home_ and start his new life with Tammy and Katie, but his conscience kept tugging on his heart, just slightly, like a gnat buzzing gently in his ear-not harmful but bothersome and ever-present.

"Allons-_y_!" The Doctor was beckoning him from the doorway of the TARDIS. Lenny almost went in after him. He wanted so badly to ignore the tug, to go forward and try to have the life he'd wanted for so long, but he didn't. He just couldn't, not after everything that had happened today.

"I...I can't." The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Look...while I was in the castle, I met a man 'oo convinced me to go back to me family because he made me see 'ow lucky I am that they're willing to accept me. He's all alone because he made a mistake, just like I was, 'cept 'is friends won't take 'im back. Just...after what 'e did for me...I want to 'elp 'im."

The Doctor stuffed his hands in the pockets of his long, tan coat. "And what would you do?"

Lenny sighed and looked at the cobblestones at his feet. "I don't know."

"Follow me." Startled, Lenny looked up and saw a knowing grin upon the Doctor's countenance. Practically having to fly to keep up with his companion this time, it was less than a minute before Lenny found himself back at the servant's door to the castle where he and Allan had parted ways. Upon seeing that Allan was, in fact, still there, sitting in the doorway with his head in his hands, the Doctor pulled Lenny behind a stack of discarded wooden crates that had no doubt once contained food for the castle kitchen. Seeing Lenny about to protest the action, the Doctor pressed a finger to his lips and motioned for him to watch what was occurring.

Two figures, hooded and cloaked, came from the direction Lenny and the Doctor had arrived from just moments before. Both were thin, but one was tall, nearly as tall as the Doctor, and the other, quite short. As Lenny looked on, the smaller of the figures silently approached Allan, knelt in front of him, and laid a hand gently on his arm. At the touch, Allan started, his head shooting up from where it had been nestled in his palms, but when he saw the face of the person before him, his eyes suddenly took on a look of surprise, submission, shame, and an incredible sadness.

"Djaq?" Lenny had to strain to hear his whisper, it's fear and uncertainty mingled with an ever-so-slight breath of hope.

"It is I, Allan. And Will, too." The taller man stepped forward as she said his name-for it was a woman's voice that spoke, delicate and accented. The small figure turned around for a moment to indicate her tall companion, and Lenny felt his heart tighten with hatred as he looked upon her face. She was an Arab! But then he felt the Doctor's glare at his back, as though the odd man knew his thoughts. He forced his automatic racial prejudices, engrained within him by his time in Iraq, from his head and focused upon the scene in front of him.

Allan was looking around him nervously. "You should't be 'ere. If they catch you..."

"That's why we need to hurry." The tall man, the second "Will" Lenny had encountered in two days, spoke this time, his voice urgent but not unkind.

"We...?" Allan murmured, looking confusedly from one to the other. "I...I don't..."

Lenny saw Djaq press Allan's hand, an earnestness in her eyes that touched his own heart. "We have come to take you home, Allan."

"Wot...?" Blue hope leapt for an instant in Allan's eyes, but when he turned to look at Will, his expression remained apprehensive.

Will nodded his affirmation. "We were all making deliveries in town when a man in strange clothes who called himself "the Doctor" showed up and told us to follow him."

Lenny smiled to himself. So _that_ was where his companion had run off to. Apparently he wasn't the only one the Doctor had been watching throughout time and space.

"We thought it was a trap, especially since he was motioning toward the castle, but he told us that someone really needed our help, and that if we truly believed in the justice we said we fought for and in the spirit of Christmas, we'd go with him. Of course that got Robin all motivated and ready to help, and so, skeptical as we were, we followed him. He led us around the back of the castle to an open window, and when we listened in, we heard you..."

"Talkin' to Lenny?" Allan's voice was still barely audible, as though he could not believe what was happening to him.

Will nodded. "We heard him ask you to tell him your story, and...everything after that."

"Allan..." Djaq's eyes were searching and worried. "You did not tell us that they hurt you."

Allan closed his eyes for a moment, wincing at memories that obviously still hurt long after the physical pain of the torture had faded. Will continued with his story, saving Allan from having to put his painful thoughts into words.

"After you left the room, Robin was quiet for a long time. I told him that you saw the Fool steal your keys when we were to hang and kept quiet about it, and about what you said about wanting to come back when Prince John's armies were coming to raze the town." Will paused for a moment, looking guiltily at the ground. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything to him sooner. I just...I was still angry. But after hearing you in there, talking to someone else, I knew you meant it, and that you deserved another chance. So I told everyone those things. We were sorry we never even noticed you were suffering. John asked what difference it made if we fed the poor and fought for justice if we couldn't even see the hurt of one of our own. And Much...for once in his life he didn't say a thing. Robin took John's words to heart, and he said that you can come back." Will's smile at this last sentence conveyed his joy at the news.

"You _will_ come back with us, won't you, Allan?" Djaq asked, searching his face for the answer.

"Robin...'e'll really 'ave me? And all o' you..." The both of them nodded, and the effect of their words finally seemed to descend upon Allan. His face lighting up with joy, his breath shaking with emotion, he managed to answer Djaq's question.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course I'll come with you."

Djaq took him into her arms, and as they embraced Will approached, knelt beside them, and squeezed Allan's arm. Lenny heard his new friend whisper into Djaq's shoulder,

"I didn't mean to 'urt you. I never meant to 'urt any of you. 'M sorry."

She pulled away from him, grasped both of his forearms, and said confidently,

"I always knew you were a good man, Allan A'Dale."

Allan inhaled sharply, his eyes flashing for just a second with painful recognition. But then he smiled again, and now there was an odd yet wonderful combination of excitement mingled with peace etched upon his countenance that reminded Lenny of how he had felt the moment he had made his decision to return to Tammy and Katie.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" He looked from Will to Djaq. "Let's go 'ome."

Will produced a blue-gray cloak from within the folds of his own garment and handed it to Allan.

"Merry Christmas, Allan."

Allan grinned and accepted the gift. Following no more than half a second's hesitation, he undid the silver buckles on his black leather vest, shed the garment, and tucked it inside one of the empty crates. After donning the cloak and pulling the hood over his head, he followed his friends down the alley, back to the life for which, not twenty minutes before, he had been longing for hopelessly but with all his heart. Standing up, Lenny turned to the Doctor, who had followed the trio with his eyes.

"Look, I don't know 'oo you are or why you do what you do, but this world needs more people like you. What you did for 'im...you changed 'is life. And I think...maybe you've changed mine, too."

The Doctor shrugged modestly. "Ah, I don't know about that." Then he grinned at Lenny, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Okay, maybe I did just a little."

Lenny chuckled.

"Are you really ready to go home now?"

Was he ever.


	5. Chapter 4

Although Lenny was a bit more prepared for the rough take-off this time, it didn't ease his nausea any. It seemed like hours before he was finally ready to remove his head from between his knees, and when he did he just sat and watched the Doctor for awhile. Him standing there, concentrating thoroughly on the levers and buttons in front of him as he piloted the TARDIS brought to Lenny's mind an image of a schooner captain, hands on the wheel of his vessel, plowing forward with the ship he loved into whatever trouble the future might hold. The picture made Lenny smile. He didn't know how the Doctor had known that he would meet Allan in the castle, or that their conversation would lead to the reconciliation at least one of them, and he honestly didn't know if he should ask. As it was, he was content with just being grateful toward him.

He must have moved or made some sort of slight noise, because just then the Doctor turned and smiled at him.

"Oh, good! I must say, you're looking better. I've set a course for York, but it's always variable-you never really can tell where you'll end up."

Lenny nodded absently-the Doctor had lost him at "York".

_"Did you know she was given a flat outside York?"_

It was hard to believe that, when they got back, it would have just been that morning when those words had hurt him so badly that he could hardly breathe. He _hadn't_ known, and when Will had said it, Lenny had felt hope flutter in his heart for just a second before reality had pushed it down again. It hadn't mattered where Tammy was-he couldn't have seen her again because he couldn't have risked hurting her.

Now he repeated the line over and over again in his head. _York._ He was going to York to be with the two people who meant the world to him, maybe even to stay forever. He felt like he was flying. Well, he _was_ flying, of course, but in a different way. It was a thousand times better than this.

He thought he would be in that blue box for eternity-his excitement made the time crawl. Finally an enormous bump propelled his bum at least six inches off of the TARDIS floor and sent his heart into his throat.

"Let's see where we've ended up, then!" The Doctor eagerly pushed the door open. Lenny, to his own surprise, hung back. What if they weren't anywhere near York? What if they weren't even in the UK? Or worse, what if they weren't in 2003? Perhaps they'd ended up centuries in the future, long after Tammy and Katie were dead...

"Well, I must say I've done quite well, wouldn't you?"

Swallowing, Lenny peeked out of the TARDIS door into the snowy night. When he saw what the Doctor was pointing to, he felt a lump in his throat.

They were parked on the sidewalk in front of an electronics store. The building appeared to be empty and a brightly-lit sign declaring "closed" hung in the door, but displayed in the window was a digital clock which declared brightly that it was 7:12 pm on December 25, 2003.

There was still time.

"I believe the place you're looking for is Sapling Row. It's right on the edge of town-just follow this road straight down."

Once again, Lenny decided not to ask how he knew this information-he was too eager to get going. He waved a goodbye to the Doctor and set off in the indicated direction. After about five paces, his conscience tugged at him again as he realized that he had not even said _thank you._ He turned around to rectify this error, but when he did, there was no one standing in front of him, and the sidewalk was empty where the TARDIS had stood just moments before. The Doctor was gone.

... ... ... ...

Lenny found himself jogging, both for the warmth the aerobic activity provided as well as the speed that decreased the distance between himself and his family. Seeing a sign adorned with a young tree ahead of him, dimly illuminated, he squinted until he could make out the name- "Sapling Row". This was it! He paused to look at the place. The flats appeared to be entered from the outside, but the building itself didn't look just too shabby. And there were worse parts of the suburbs.

As he walked up the driveway, he noticed a grid of postal boxes on his right side. It was difficult to make out the names of their owners in the darkness, but eventually he spotted a paper label upon which the name "Bartle" was handwritten. Flat 214. Good. The second floor was safer than the first-it was harder to break into.

It wasn't until he mounted the staircase, hand sliding upward along the banister, metal with small speckles of rust, that he realized how quickly and shallowly his breath was coming. Though he had jogged several miles, he knew that it wasn't from the physical exertion-his training for the Army had left him in much better shape than that. 210...212...214. His stomach began turning somersaults as he stood in front of the dark green door, and suddenly he was so overcome with fear-fear that Tammy might not want to see him again after all, fear that she had let someone else, someone more stable into her life, fear that Katie wouldn't recognize him-that he almost turned away. What had he been thinking? How would him being here change anything? He would still have his nightmares, would still be haunted by the pain in Tammy's eyes when he woke with murder on his mind.

But then, just as he was about to give up the whole endeavor, from within the flat he heard a child's voice. He could not understand what it was saying, or even make out its tone, but within his heart he knew it was Katie's. And in that moment he knew that he had come too far too go back now, and that he'd be letting too many people down if he did. Allan. The Doctor. Katie. Tammy. Maybe even himself. No. It was time to fix what he'd broken.

Lenny reached out and rang the doorbell. From within the flat, he heard an inquiring voice, its words indistinguishable, and then footsteps heading in his direction. He could barely get his breath-in just a few more seconds, he would see her, after all this time. Then the footsteps stopped, the knob turned, and she was _there._

She was wearing an old sweatshirt and sweatpants, both of which were too large for her. Bedroom slippers donned her feet, and her mouse-brown hair was tousled and thrown into a haphazard ponytail-no doubt she'd done nothing less than was sheerly practical with her appearance this morning because she hadn't planned on seeing anyone but Katie on this day of familial joy. But to Lenny, she looked just as beautiful as she had on their wedding day.

When she saw him, her hand flew to her mouth, tears starting immediately in her eyes. He had expected her to be shocked, to say his name questioningly and stand there as though he were a specter before her eyes, a ghost returned from the dead who she could not believe was there, who she thought she would never see again. Instead, she fell into him, wrapping her arms around him, sobbing, saying his name over and over. She was not surprised, only joyful, and it occurred to Lenny that it was because she had never given up on him. Had he not been so lost in her presence, he would have noticed that his actions mirrored hers but for the weeping. Her name repeatedly passed his lips, as though he were making up in these few precious seconds for all of the times he hadn't spoken it in the past few months. He barely noticed when they sank to the floor in their emotion and knelt together, encompassed in one another's embrace. The only thing in the world that mattered in that moment was that they were together.

Finally, they ended up sitting on the carpet, her leaning into his side, hand in his. He reached over to shut the flat door against the cold-the act of closing it had gotten lost in the sudden onslaught of welcoming love-and then cautiously began to stroke his wife's hair.

"I always knew you'd come back." Her voice was very nearly a whisper, but when she tilted her head to look up at him, her deep brown eyes spoke louder than if she had yelled. It was true, then. He was touched that she should have so much more faith in him than he had in himself.

"Every time someone rang the doorbell, or called on the phone, or even walked by outside the flat, my heart would flutter for a moment, hoping against hope that it was you. I called the radio station every week and put ads in the newspapers, hoping someone would respond saying they knew where you were, or at the very least had seen you." Her words were not accusatory or angry-she was just relaying a story, recounting her actions for the simple reason that he had not been there to witness them. But hearing everything that she had done out of confidence that she would someday find him made his heart tremble. He could say nothing, choosing instead to simply drop a kiss into her hair, watching the few tears he would allow himself glisten on its strands.

"You left because of the nightmares, didn't you?"

Swallowing hard, he nodded, willing words to leave his mouth. Never before had he felt the need to be so incredibly honest with anyone.

"I...I could see what it was doin' to ya, and Katie. I couldn't watch you watchin' me, and I was afraid that one day, either from the drinkin' or the dreamin', I'd really 'urt ya, maybe even worse. I 'ad to go."

Pain leapt into her eyes. "You mean you're not staying?"

He shook his head frantically. "No! No, I...I mean...if..." His words were a mangled mess, so he tried again. "If you'll 'ave me, after everything I've done to 'urt you, that is, I want to stay with you and Katie, forever." It seemed such a selfish thing to ask as he spoke it, but he knew her answer when she pressed her lips to his and kissed him for a very long time. When they finally parted, she cupped his face in her hand, and he leaned into her touch and closed his eyes as she murmured,

"Whatever comes our way, we can work through it together. I'll always be there for you, no matter what you're dealing with."

Whatever he might have said next was lost, for the promise he heard in her words finally brought him to the edge of what his emotions could handle. Leaning into her shoulder, he wept. He felt more vulnerable in this moment than he had during months alone on the streets, but it all was rendered well by her breath on his ear, her hand stroking the side of his face.

After several minutes of her holding him, he heard light footsteps approaching, and when he looked up he saw Katie, in pink princess pajamas, holding a tattered teddy bear that had once been his own, staring at him, her eyes enormous. Running the back of his sleeve quickly across his eyes, Lenny gave her a wobbly smile.

"Hey, Katie. D'you remember me?"

She shook her head and backed away, and terror like he had never known, not even in tensest battle, leapt into Lenny's heart. His fears were founded, then. His little girl didn't know him.

"Katie, love," Tammy said, "it's your daddy. Don't you know your daddy?"

The little girl's eyes, as blue as Lenny's own, darted back and forth between her parents for several seconds as Lenny felt his world spiraling out of control. Then suddenly, joy covered her face and she rushed into his arms.

"Daddy!"

Laughing with relief, Lenny squeezed her tightly, wishing for the moment never to end. It did, inevitably, when the three-year-old pulled back from him and said, hurt,

"Daddy, you went away."

He swallowed. "I know, lovie. I'm so sorry."

"Are you going to go away again?" The plaintiveness of her voice melted his heart. He shook his head emphatically.

"No." Seeing his little girl smile, he addressed Tammy when he added, "I promise."

She smiled back at him and tucked her head where it had always fit perfectly, next to his neck where his head met his shoulder, and he noticed that it still felt so _right._ Katie crawled into his lap and, smiling up at him, said cheerfully,

"Merry Christmas, Daddy!"

Looking around the little flat, furnished with only the basics and a small Christmas tree, from his spot on the floor with the two people around which his world would revolve from here on out, Lenny realized that he could never have asked for a better Christmas present than this. Speaking to the both of them, his heart full of joy, he responded to Katie's wish.

"Merry Christmas."


End file.
